Page 43 of The Sister's Curse
I eased myself into the chair and thanked her for the tea. Despite the smoking, her face was remarkably unlined. Probably a benefit of being goth, and shunning the sun. She had to be in herforties by now, and she wore her age well, with no gray hair. She was dressed in a black tank top and jeans, and she was barefoot. Her arms were scarred up. Didn’t look like self-harm, though. They looked like animal scratches.
“I’m here to talk about your sister. Is this a good time?”
Vivian stubbed out her cigarette in a glass ashtray. “Always. Has the case been reopened?”
“It was never closed, and I’m looking into it now. You’re the only relative I could find an address for, and I wanted to ask what you remember.”
Her mouth turned down. “Yes. I would be the only one you could find.”
“Is your mom local?”
Her gaze flicked away. “Mom tried to kill herself six months after Dana vanished. She was institutionalized.”
“I’m so very sorry.” I leaned forward, pressing my elbows to my knees and clasping my hands before me.
Viv exhaled. “It was just the three of us after Dad left, when I was five. She couldn’t imagine living in a world in which her daughters didn’t outlive her.”
“She thought Dana was dead?”
“Yeah. There was no way Dana would’ve been gone from us that long if she were alive.”
“How did it happen?” I asked gently.
“I came home from school and found Mom in the bathtub.” Viv took a sip of iced tea. “My mom never wanted to make a mess, so she slit her wrists in the tub.”
“That had to be beyond terrible.”
“It was. I sat beside the bathtub, waiting for the paramedics. I didn’t know if she was alive or not. I just stared at that red water, hoping they could fix her.” Her gaze was unfocused, and then shelooked up at me. “Would you like to see some pictures of her and Dana?”
“Yes, please.”
Viv stood and beckoned me into the house, opening the wooden screen door. Inside, the lights were out and a fan hummed. The place probably hadn’t changed much since Viv’s sister went missing. There was yellowing blue and white wallpaper, and a stopped clock on the wall.
Viv followed my gaze. “That clock stopped after Dana vanished. I never had the heart to change the batteries.”
I understood then. This place was a monument to Viv’s grief.
She led me to a sitting room containing a threadbare couch and overstuffed chairs. The place smelled like dust.
Two large dog crates stood against the fireplace. I peered inside the first, at a knot of gray fur snuggled down in a box. “Baby opossums?”
“This is the time of year when some fall off their mom and need help.”
Her watch beeped. “Speaking of which…I need to do a feeding.”
“Don’t mind me,” I said.
I glanced at the second dog crate. A fluffy gray raccoon the size of a cantaloupe stared at me from a nest of towels. He yawned, showing sharp little teeth.
She slipped away to the kitchen, and I took in the rest of the room. On an upright piano, photographs stood. I looked at them, one by one. There were two dark-haired girls, the sisters, and their mother. The mother looked barely old enough to be the girls’ parent, and might be mistaken for another sister.
Vivian returned with a bottle, opened the first cage, and picked up two baby opossums. She snuggled them in her shirt and beganbottle-feeding the tiny blobs of fur. The first one that took the bottle moved its black ears as it nursed. When he was full, Viv turned her attention to the second, which was fussier about the bottle but eventually got the hang of it.
I looked at a picture of a girl in a dark red prom dress standing beside a young man in a suit. Her dress plunged low, and she had the sauciness of a silent-screen vamp. Her date looked thrilled to have her on his arm.
“This is your sister?”
“Yes. That’s her prom picture. Her date was Rick Smitz. Nice guy.”
